Gotta go!

This is going to be one of those posts that makes me glad that I haven't gone too public with my blog.  It isn't the sort of post that I would wish my work colleagues to read as they probably won't look at me the same way again (well, they already look at me a little strangely, but I think that's down to some of my other habits....).  You have been warned!  If you are easily shocked, then I warn you to LEAVE THIS PAGE RIGHT NOW!!   

Are you still here?  OK then, I will continue... 

To set the scene (and build up the story), let’s imagine that you have gone out for the day with your family to a family fun event, which has lots of entertainment – singing, dancing, juggling, comedy, etc, and stalls where you can buy exciting clothes, jewellery or ornaments that look great on the Bohemian types wandering around the event, but look pretty silly once you get home.  There are stalls where you can get every kind of food from the usual burgers and hot dogs to falafel and oriental noodles.  Or maybe you came prepared with a lovely picnic, that you brought in the cool box, complete with a bottle of wine that you drink out of plastic cups, sitting on your chequered rug.  It’s a lovely sunny day (you might have to try very hard with the imagination here…), and the children are frolicking happily with other children, the birds are singing (you can’t actually hear them above the racket from the stage, but still…), strange looking people are smoking strange smelling roll-ups, and the flowers are blooming all around…  Ahhhh, bliss!  And then… and then… you know you have to… your attempts not to drink too much were fruitless…there is no way you’re going to last another 2 hours or so until you get home… oh NO!! You have to use the communal toilets!! Aaaaaaaaaaaagghhhhhh!!!!  This is, of course, assuming that you are a female – if you are of the male species – and I don’t think I have any of that variety following my blog – then you won’t know what the fuss is all about (unless your requirement is for a longer visit…).  Anyway, having finally realised that you have to give in to your body’s most inconvenient call to the convenience, you make haste in the direction of the dreaded toilets.   There they are ahead, a row of little plastic huts, looming most unattractively, like little tardes (is that the plural of tardis, I wonder?) across the skyline.  You may have some luck if there are separate toilets for men and ladies – no guarantees of course, but you may be spared the sprinkler effect around the seat, walls, floor, sink and ceiling.  You have no choice (well, there is one, but would be even worse to deal with unless you are wearing some super strength incontinence pants).  With a sinking heart you take a deep breath in (to try and avoid the need to do this inside the little shack), and venture in.  Need I go on?  Suffice to say, there is no way that you are going to allow your delicate little bottom to make contact with that disgusting structure in front of you, so, you perform a careful reverse manoeuvre so that your nether regions are hovering about 8 inches above the receptacle, and attempt to let it all out.  Isn’t it strange how, even though your body is desperate, it really doesn’t want to let it out when you are in this awkward position?   OK, eventually you get going, and use your super-human powers to control the direction so it doesn’t spray over your clothes or your feet.  Of course, there is no toilet paper or soap, so better hope that you are prepared with some tissues and sanitiser!   

 

This is a scene which most of us can relate to, so wouldn't it be great if someone found a way to enable us girls to pee like blokes???!!!! - without the rotating fountain effect, of course).  Well, some clever person has invented a little device that enables us to do just that!  I had heard of these devices, however what prompted me to buy one was an article in Good Housekeeping (yes, really!), comparing a number of different models.  A bit different from their usual offering of comparing food mixers and pressure cookers...  Anyway, being just a little bit of a gadget buff, I had to buy one, so selected the GH recommended model which is called "The Whizz".   

I think I've waffled on enough for now, so will save my story about the test drive for another day.  Bet your DESPERATE to hear about it...

Fasting and Feasting

I know, I know!  It has been a while….blah blah blah…  In honour of my new follower (yippee!!), I thought I would put fingers to keyboard and waffle on a bit.  It’s also a celebration of a year since I started out on this “journey”, and I just wanted to mention, once again, how amazingly impressed I am with the IF WOE (Intermittent Fasting Way of Eating…). 

Although I was thrilled to see the weight dropping off, I know from many past experiences just how difficult it is to keep it off.  With the best will in the world, it is very difficult to continue, on an on-going basis, to deprive oneself of all the nice things to eat in life, such as cakes, biscuits, chocolate, ice-cream, desserts, wine, curry, bread, etc etc.  It only takes a holiday, Christmas or just a bad week-end to start back on the rocky road to letting the pounds slowly creep back on.  At the risk of sounding rather evangelical (once again) about this particular approach, I truly believe that it is a do-able long term solution to not just losing the weight, but KEEPING it off!  Whilst it isn’t exactly enjoyable going through a day until tea time without a calorie passing my lips, the knowledge that it is only for that short period, and the next day I don’t have to think about dieting gets me through. 

Yesterday was a fasting day.  I drank my way through a couple of litres of water and a couple of black coffees, and made it until 6.00pm, when I had an M&S salmon and grain salad meal for 375 calories.  I also had some melon, grapes and asparagus, and a couple of cups of (white) tea.  Today is a “feast” day.  That doesn’t mean (unfortunately!) that I can stuff my face with absolutely anything I fancy, but just that I don’t have to think too hard about watching what I eat today.  It is someone’s birthday in the office, and that means cream cakes – yum!  I will still opt for the “least bad” option (a chocolate éclair at 185 calories), but I will enjoy it without any guilt or worry that I have blown my diet.  On previous “diets”, giving in to a cake would have the negative psychological effect of making me think “oh no, blown the diet again – might as well continue to pig out and start again tomorrow…” (or next Monday!).  I know, I know!  It isn’t logical or sensible, but I can’t be perfect all the time!

Cheeky Cherry!

I like cherries, and of course, fruit is very good for you.  I didn’t much fancy eating this one tho’!

Back soon with update…. (yeah, right!)

On holiday

Hola to my loyal follower(s)! I am on holiday in Zahara de los Atunes, and, through the marvels of modern technology, can type my blog and post it to the internet! How cool is that?

It has been a while since I posted, I know, but it can be a bit disheartening pouring out my thoughts onto the World Wide Web, where there is a possibility that they could be read by millions, if not BILLIONS, of people, but in reality, they are only being read by my one loyal follower. I have tried to encourage/persuade/bribe a few other friends and relatives to read my blog, and they have promised faithfully to do this, however once away from my nagging, they conveniently forget all about it. I mean, anyone would think they had lives to lead! Oh well, I guess I will have to continue to purge my mind of this meaningless drivel for no other reason than to please myself and my number one follower (well, my only one follower...).

So, I'm sure you're dying to know how I am getting on with the fasting/fitness/alcohol deprivation plan, and I can happily report that it is still going pretty well. The weight loss has plateaued, but that is fine because it is most definitely in the right place. I am continuing to do my two days of fasting each week, which should be leading to a little more weight loss, however I think I am being a little more indulgent with myself at week-ends, so if I every want to get into only one day of fasting, I will have to cut down on the extra treats I am allowing myself. Alcohol wise, I have managed to stick to the abstinence from Monday to Thursday pretty well every week, except when there is a very occasional night out on one of those days, I continue to log my drinks on that wretched website, and it does like to tell me that I am at "increasing risk" if I have more than 2 glasses of wine each night at the week-end. I get a bit cross with it, and will not be telling it how many drinks I have this week as I am on holiday and I know I will be in such big trouble for drinking every single day this week. I know it will be sending me emails telling me that I have "forgotten" to log my drinks this week, but I will not be intimidated! I will DELETE them! Ha! Still wearing the Fitbit and trying for the 10k steps per day, but not doing too well as the weather is so cold that it isn't very nice walking outside. I will most definitely be getting back to the strict 5:2 regime on my return, but for now, I'm off for a beer! Salut!

Will you just GO AWAY!!

I don’t know if it’s a sign of getting older (probably is – everything else seems to be…), but the amount of personal space I require seems to increase as the years go by.  Maybe I have always been like this, but I feel that I am getting more and more intolerant of people encroaching on MY space.  The alternative, and a more likely possibility, I feel, is that people are just getting ruder, and feel more inclined to step into other people’s space and just, generally, try to take up far more than their fair share of personal space.  

This is particularly prevalent in the gym.  Not that I go as often as I should, but I try to go at least once a week at lunchtime, which appears to be the quietest time (in terms of number of people rather than volume of the blasted racket they play…). My first stop is the treadmill, where I do a 15 minute jog/fast walk whilst watching Loose Women.  I have a strategy for choosing my treadmill out of the bank of 15 or so:  If there is no-one on one of the ends, and no-one on the one next to the end, it’s a no-brainer, and I go for the end one.  If not, I will try to pick the one which has no-one either side.  Should this not be possible, I will choose the one where I will be next to a woman rather than a man, as there is less chance of grunting noises punctuating the thudding sound of ginormous feet smacking the treadmill with 15 stones of force (less chance, but no guarantee…).  On a REALLY good day, there is pretty well no-one using the treadmills, and I happily (!) jump on to the end spot for my 15 minutes.  Well, this contented feeling doesn’t last!  What happens next defies all reason and laws of probability.  If I was young, fit and attractive, I might be able to understand why the treadmill right next to me is ALWAYS the one that is chosen by the next man coming for his run.  Women don’t do it!  They, like me, will walk to the far end and chose a treadmill with some space around them.  Not men – oh no!  They obviously have the need to be as close as they possibly can to another body – perhaps they are reverting back to childhood, and it’s a sub-conscious mother/son thing.   [WARNING - Digression coming up] They do it on the train too – whilst the majority of ladies sit with their thighs and knees welded together, trying as hard as possible to take up the minimum of space, the same cannot be said of most men!  They squash their large backsides and thighs into the small seat next to you and open their legs W—I—D—E!!!  Whilst you shrivel to the far corner of your seat, pressing your thighs even closer together, matey boy presses his copious mounds of thigh flesh against your thighs.  You suppress feelings of revulsion and try to read your book whilst balancing on one thigh and leaning at an uncomfortable angle.  Meanwhile matey boy has opened his broadsheet paper right across his lap and yours.  He noisily flicks through a few pages before lolling back, eye’s closed, tongue protruding, and snoring like a wart hog with a bad cold. [End of digression].

Back to the treadmill!  WHY do men get on the treadmill next to me when there are 14 other empty ones?  I have no idea!  I just know, that I find it EXTREMELY frustrating!  Why can they not just £$*& OFF to a treadmill a bit further away!  I often contemplating breaking wind very loudly to see if that will have the desired effect.  I would say that it’s my manners that stop me, but it’s actually the worry that it might be so loud that EVERYONE in the gym hears.  I try to sneak out a sneaky silent one in the hope that Puffing Billy next door will notice, but he obviously has no sense of smell as well as being a social Neanderthal.   I finish my treadmill workout and move to the cross trainer where, once again, I go through the same routine and experiences as the treadmill.  I finally move over to the free weight area.  Now there are two free weight areas in our gym – one which contains all the great big weights and bars that all the big macho men use, as well as some handheld weights.  The other area, which is where I use, has hand weights, kettle bells, medicine balls, gym balls, light bar weights, a couple of steps, etc.  Sometimes I just randomly pick up a few weights and wave them around a bit and other times, such as today, I try to follow a more structured routine using an app on my iPhone that shows me what to do and logs my progress.  Unfortunately there are usually at least two men exercising in the area when I go there, taking over an area in which twelve ladies could comfortably exercise and forcing me to try and exercise in about 1 meter square space on the corner of the matting.  Today, however, there was no-one there!  Hoorah!  I put down my water bottle, my headphones, my iPhone and my towel on a handily placed box and started to pick up some dumb bells.  I must have started to give off some sort of irresistible smell, because within SECONDS, a man came rushing over and started to drag one of the benches across the floor until he was almost pressed up against me!  He picked up one of the bar weights and took it back to his bench, where he started pushing it up and down and grunting in a most unattractive way (he probably thought it was a mating call!).  I couldn't even get to my phone and water without having to keep walking around him.  I pointedly walked all...the...way... around his grunting form in order to pick up my bits and pieces, but he was oblivious!  I guess I just have to face it - I must be IRRESISTIBLE!!

Give me tap!

Never let it be said that I don’t listen to feedback from my avid reader!  You wanted a photo, so I thought I would take the opportunity to show how serious my wonderful employer is taking its environmental responsibility at the same time as meeting the request of my reader. 

We have water dispensers at work, alongside which are piles of small plastic cups.  This week, our caring employer has given out re-usable bottles to all the employees to cut down on the number of cups we use!  How cool is that!  We didn’t get a pay rise, but we got a shiny little bottle.  Whoop whoop!  I have tried out my bottle, and the rubber top tastes quite unpleasant – in fact, the sensation is rather like drinking through a hosepipe.  Still, I can at least feel satisfied in the knowledge that I am doing my bit to save the planet…

Gosh, I am such a satisfied employee! 

I thought he was dead...

It was all my fault!  I had become rather complacent, having considered myself far too sensible to do anything as daft as drown the little fella!  Sadly, my complacency was mis-placed, and stupidity took over when I managed to put my Fitbit through a wash cycle.  It was Sunday morning and I got up and went downstairs to have a coffee.  Very rarely, for me, I decided to go down in my nightdress, and, for some reason I still can’t fathom, I attached my Fitbit to the pocket on my nightdress.  WHY on earth would I do such a thing?  It’s not as though I was planning to go for a walk dressed as I was!  Anyway, I had my coffee and went back upstairs to dress, totally forgetting about my Fitbit.  I gathered up a pile of washing, and threw my nightdress into the pile.  I took the pile downstairs and shovelled it into the washing machine without another thought.  It was only later when I as hanging the washing up to dry that I noticed the Fitbit looking very sorry for himself at the bottom of the basket.  I picked him up – his casing looked a bit cracked.  I pressed his button, and, where it should have been giving me numbers of steps, flights, etc, it was giving me words.  Not rude words, thankfully, but it just said things like “Steps”, “Miles” without anything else.  I tried again later and got the same thing.  I was convinced that he was dead, especially as this seems to be a common occurrence if you read the FB forums, and no-one’s FB seems to survive.  I did the only thing I could do – I got on to Amazon and ordered a new one straight away, thinking this was my opportunity to get the new, flashier model, with Bluetooth functionality!! 

I left poor old FB on the charging cradle overnight, and checked him this morning.  When I pressed the button, a little ‘0’ came up – looked promising.  I ran around the room and pressed the button again – a number ‘9’ was displayed!  9 steps!  Rumours of FB’s death were greatly exaggerated!  I quickly got on to Amazon and was, luckily, able to cancel my order.